My Dear Goldstein
by lilyamongthorns
Summary: "Her response comes quickly. So quickly that he thinks she must've rejected him. The scrolling monogram at the top of her stationary is not as charming as before; he just longs to see her, and not a token of hers." Playing with these characters. Will continue.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I've only see the movie once, so forgive any details I might've overlooked. But I just wanted to play around with these two and see what would happen. Also, while I was writing, I formatted this with strikethroughs that add a little something extra, but unfortunately don't format on this site. I'll post this whole first chapter on tumblr with formatting, in case anyone cares to see it. I'm 'bookwormbarista' there. Not all chapters will be letters.

More to come.

-O-O-

She can tell he was nervous just by his penmanship. The parchment is crisp but yellowed, and smells of some exotic place she cannot identify.

 _2_ _nd_ _March, 1927_

 _My dear Goldstein,_

 _I hope I haven't worried you. Upon arrival into London, I feverishly began to organize my notes and experiences, and honestly haven't found a breath between caring for the creatures and drafting my manuscript. Do not think I've neglected thinking about you. Or your sister, or Kowolski. Or our adventure in New York. It is something I hold dear, and think of often amongst the hurried mundanity that is keeping the beasts and the Ministry happy. Sometimes I'd like to think the latter is just as helpless as the former, at least when both are confined to cubicles. But you didn't hear that from me._

 _Actually, since Grindlewald's capture and escape, most of them have been focused elsewhere. No doubt MACUSA has been abuzz with activity, and I do hope they aren't working you too hard. Or that you aren't being too difficult on yourself. I was elated to read of your promotion. In this season, our governments are in need of headstrong and determined investigators like yourself._

 _I expect that the book will be ready for final review at the end of spring, and I could chance a visit to New York by May. Is it very warm there then? It would be nice to have a change of weather from the cold drizzle of London._

 _I am sure you will write back quicker than I, and I do apologize at my sorry excuse for letter writing etiquette. After two years of traveling, I didn't have anyone to keep in touch with regularly except my parents and they never seemed to worry about me too much unless Mother sends a pair of new socks._

 _I hope to hear from you soon, and long to see you again even sooner._

 _Yours,_

 _Newt Scamander_

-O-O-

Her stationary is monogrammed in a gold script that draws itself atop the header of the paper when he opens it. Rather elaborate for her, he thinks, but he smiles anyways.

 _March 7, 1927_

 _Newt,_

 _Your owl is greedy for treats, you know? Definitely spoiled. He devoured my entire lunch, as punishment for making him wait I guess._

 _Without question, I've missed having you here. I was elated to receive your letter, so much so in fact that I read it immediately upon seeing it at my desk…and after waving your owl away from my lunch pail. I find myself with so little spare time recently that I didn't want to take the chance at having to wait and read it later. I'm not able to detail what we've been working on, but we're following the trail to your side of the pond, hoping we'll uncover where Grindelwald has snuck off to. Ambassadors are at work, certainly a good thing in support of international sentiment, but no clues have led anywhere promising._

 _I have too much faith in you to believe you'd forgotten us, but how unforgivable to tease a girl and leave her for two months without so much as a word? I'm joking, of course._ _We'll be delighted to see you whenever a visit happens._

 _Kowalski has opened shop just at the end of the block. Its quite an amazing display. Some of his treats might even resemble certain forms you'd recognize. I'm sure I saw a Niffler-shaped something in the window the other day. I don't dare go in. Strange things can happen with memory charms, as I'm sure you know. Queenie talks about going, and I try to warn her against it, but there's no controlling her really. She'll end up popping in, and who knows what will happen, but maybe it will be the right time for them both._

 _New York is beginning to warm in May, yes. However I can't promise a relief from rain. It's a lovely month to walk in the park, travel to the beach (as you would say, the sea) and oh! Coney Island! It's mechanical magic like you've never seen, but the no-maj's love it. And it is quite fun, until you lose all your nickels at a shooting game, and the roller coasters are nothing compared to riding a racing broom. In any case, there will be a lot to do and see. Many things I want to show you. And hopefully a lot less destruction this time, Merlin willing._

 _If May could make it here faster, I'd be forever grateful._

 _Until then,_

 _Tina_

-O-O-

This letter comes with a different owl, with gray through his feathers and bright orange eyes. It disappears from her bedroom window sill once its delivered its parcel, and doesn't reappear until late morning. Pressed in the folds of the letter is a daisy, which she wonders if he cut from someone's window box.

 _30_ _th_ _March, 1927_

 _My dear_ _es_ _t Goldstein,_

 _A visit in May is confirmed! My manuscript has been submitted, and pends approval from Worme; he says he'll have his final edits by mid-April. Forgive my hasty handwriting, but the joy and thrill of having finally finished this mot precious project sets me on the 'edge of my seat,' as the Americans say._

 _At any rate, I've booked passage for the first week of May, this time for a week's time. Please allow me to make arrangements for myself, as I'd not want to disturb your landlady, or your sister. Furthermore, it would be entirely improper._

 _Congratulations to Kowalski. I do hope to find a Kneezle-shaped scone there during my visit. I do not see harm in reinstating his memories now, after he's established himself. I trust Queenie's instincts. Don't you?_

 _At this point in my letter, you'll have to forgive me something else as well… That even as a good Englishman, in my current state I can't help myself but write these things to you:_

 _Since my first letter to you, I haven't been able to keep myself from thoughts about you. Mostly remembering your eyes. You've always got to avoid looking people in the eyes, you see. In a city populated mostly by muggles, I was prepared to keep a low profile. And in taming beasts, most will not tolerate locking eyes until they've considered that you can be trusted. With you this was different. Well…at least once you'd released me from custody. I watched in awe at your determination…how it shone in your eyes. Your deep ties to making right and calculated decisions, and yet your deep bonds to those around you in spite of this._

 _This is the trait I admire most about you, and something I'm grateful to have learned about you even in our short time together. Forgive me if this is forward, or unwanted. But it is something I can't overlook, and something I can only hope to learn more of._

 _I'm certain I'm going to feel embarrassed about all of this once I send this letter, but in the great distance between us, there is something I would like to begin growing even now. Forgive me again._

 _I can't bear to write more now. Its too silly for my staunch English heart to bear._

 _Unequivocally yours,_

 _Newt_

-O-O-

Her response comes quickly. So quickly that he thinks she must've rejected him. The scrolling monogram at the top of her stationary is not as charming as before; he just longs to see _her_ , and not a token of hers.

 _April 2,_ _,_ _1927_

 _Newt,_

 _Wow. Well. I hope you write about your creatures as beautifully as you write about me. Then reading your book will be even more of a joy._

 _If I may, I'd like to speak boldly as well. I've felt for so long that there wasn't anything necessarily important or unique about me. Not that I'm seeking pity, or that I think of myself negatively. I just thought I was normal. Funny thing for a witch to think about herself, I guess. But Queenie was always the different one, the unique one. I performed at the average level in school, I wasn't particularly gifted in anything. That's what drove me to make something of myself. Once we were on our own, we had to make our own way. Our own decisions. Queenie was pretty and distinctive, I was just me. She never felt like she needed to work nearly as hard as I did. It sounds selfish to say that I wanted to be noticed, but really I just wanted to do something good. It didn't matter how small it was. Good was good enough for me. Maybe I got a little desperate…_

 _But during those few days when you were here, I didn't feel so ordinary. I felt…noticed. I felt different. As if for the first time someone saw that I was more than some annoying MACUSA harpy trying to get recognized. In thinking it over, I'm shocked you wanted to come back at all. You have seen so many exotic places, so many rare and mystic creatures. Why should I stand out at all? The girl who has always been in the background._

 _But I guess that's it. That's what I admire most about you. You seek to understand the deepest parts of your creatures. What makes them tick, so to speak. And because of this, you see good in even the basest of people. You're devoted. And that's rare._

 _I agree, this is all very silly. Its difficult to write and be so open without seeing your reactions and communicating with you directly. But May is nearly here, and if you ask Queenie, I've been 'simply giddy' in preparation. But you didn't hear that from me._

 _Waiting,_

 _Tina_


	2. Chapter 2

Rain bounced like overexcited pixies against her umbrella. She gripped it with both hands to keep from fidgeting. She had agreed to meet him, though she wasn't sure now if she could hold herself together for that long. The ship had docked ten minutes ago, but there was still time to wait for him to make it through customs. She should've consulted Queenie about what to wear. But she'd just come from work, and she could only imagine what her coworkers would say about anything more scandalous than a pair of trousers and a dusty blue blouse. It didn't matter anyways, she assured herself, tugging at her coat, touching her hat. He wouldn't be worried about all that.

Huffing in anticipation, she turned away from the exit, staring out over the rolling ocean speckled in billions of little ripples. Lady Liberty was silhouetted in the sunset turned dark blue by the weather.

She could remember walking here with her father before he passed, while he entertained her and Queenie with stories about Ilvermorny. She was totally entranced by the idea of the castle on a cliff and just couldn't wait until her letter arrived. And yet when the day came, her father nor her mother were there to celebrate it with her. Queenie had to wait another year, and luckily only spent nine months as a ward of the state before Tina hurried back to rescue her.

She didn't think about that period of time very often, mostly because she'd tried to block it out. It was a terrifying and lonely time that should have been so happy for the both of them. Ilvermorny became their long-lost home of sorts, once they found their place and developed their gifts. And once Queenie had convinced her to let go of the guilt she kept at leaving her alone for the first year. Even after living in the City her whole life, she couldn't manage to be impressed by things like the world-renowned Statue, or even the skyscrapers that were poking into the clouds at every turn nowadays. Others might've figured themselves to live in the most innovative city in the world, but none of it impressed her after having explored every inch of a place that was as otherworldly as Ilvermorny. A place that had become something akin to salvation for her and her sister.

Lost in thoughts she so seldomly visited, she jumped nearly a foot when someone tapped her shoulder.

"Hello," a familiar voice greeted behind her. He was weather-worn, hair damp and coat limp. "Sorry to frighten you."

"I'm sorry. I forgot…" she stammered, blinking at him and thrusting her umbrella over them both.

"Forgot?"

"No. Nevermind. Unimportant. Hi."

He grinned and something like fire roared in her belly. "Hello," he repeated. There was a beat, and she was acutely aware she was being studied. His eyes fell over her neck, down to her shoulder.

She glanced down to his familiar, small suitcase. "You brought friends?"

"Always."

"I'm glad."

His smile grew impossibly wider and then he blanched, fumbling a moment with his case, glancing around and then deciding to set it down between their feet. "Speaking of friends…" He slipped a hand beneath the lapel of his coat.

He pulled a slightly thick book from his inner pocket and presented it with a flourish. "M'lady." He ducked his head genteelly. She took it in her free hand, running her thumb over the gold filigree on the cover.

"Its beautiful."

"I had no say in the cover, at any rate."

"Thank you," she said briefly, smiling.

They were close enough now, squished together under her umbrella… that when she looked up at him, she could feel the warmth of his breath, count the freckles on his cheek… If he just leaned a fraction of an inch closer she could…

"We should get out of the rain," she suggested quietly.

"Quite right." Heat flooded his face and he watched her fumble with tucking the book inside her coat and balancing the umbrella. It swayed tediously, sending a scattering of raindrops over her hat and the back of his scarf. Gently, hesitantly, he took it from her hand, holding it upright above the both of them.

A fluttering sensation blossomed in the pit of her stomach, going straight to her head and dizzying her for just a split second. "Thanks. Thanks," she stammered, buttoning her coat and shoving her hands in her pockets, looking at him expectantly. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished. I had booked a room at a small hotel, but I was hoping to eat first…and…"

He needn't finish his sentence, because she caught it in his eyes, in the slow and careful way he was revisiting her every feature. "Okkaaayyy…" she drew out the word, grinning like an idiot. "Sandwiches?" she offered.

He nodded, focused on her hair, his eyes twinkling with infatuation again. She probably could've suggested gruel, and he would've nodded just as contentedly.

"It's a far walk. We can take a cab."

"I don't mind walking," he answered, leaning down slightly to retrieve his case.

She nodded dizzily, stepping forward with him.

-O-O-

She had hardly expected her heart to flutter with pride at the sight of the title page, but it had. She thumbed through the book at their table, being keen to not smear mustard anywhere near it.

"Its fantastic!" she exclaimed, scanning over the contents.

"Indeed," he answered curtly over his roast beef sandwich.

She'd tried to talk him into pastrami, but he'd wrinkled his nose. "You can take the man out of Britain, I guess…" she'd joked.

The tiny luncheonette was nearly deserted, but the staff tucked themselves back to their corners once their food was at hand. Lamps buzzed unremittingly overhead, bringing out the red in his hair. Under the table, their knees bumped inadvertently and she smirked.

'I can't wait to start reading," she said, folding the cover closed.

"I'm glad to see your enthusiasm."

"Of course! This is something that's never been done before! You're nearly on your way to showing that these creatures aren't dangerous."

He gave a small, hopeful smile. "That's my ultimate goal. And you know it. You've seen for yourself."

She nodded, looking back to the book, tracing the letters of his name printed there in gold. "Will you have to release them? The creatures, I mean. Will they have to go back?"

Newt leaned back in his seat, squaring his shoulders. She tried to calculate the expression on his face, but couldn't quite manage it. "It is…the ethical thing to do. It is something I've dreaded thinking about. I'm surprised the Ministry has let me keep them this long, but it's not fair to keep them, no matter how comfortable an environment I've conjured for them."

There was a beat of painful silence.

She leaned forward, catching hold of his hand across the table.

He seemed mildly startled, staring down at their fingers for a moment before looking up to meet her eyes.

"I could help," she said decidedly.

The corner of his mouth twitched marginally. "You would?"

She nodded.

He seemed to perk up, if only slightly.

"Perhaps its time for me to turn in," he said quietly after a beat.

She nodded once more, tucking the book back into her coat as he wound up his scarf.

-O-O-

The rain had stopped now, and she kept measure of their steps using the umbrella as a sort of walking stick. The odd passing car drew bright shadows over the wet streets, but they were otherwise alone, walking in uncertain silence.

She'd had to fight for her prerogative to walk herself home after leaving him at the hotel. After she'd convinced him that she'd been doing so for her entire life (and "because I do have a wand I'm not afraid to use, Mr. Scamander!") he finally conceded.

When they found the stoop of his hotel, she paused, leaning back against the railing and gripping it with both hands. "Tomorrow's Friday…I've got to work."

"Oh. That's fine. I've got to hunt down a fireplace somewhere. I've got an interview with the Daily Prophet."

"Your newspaper? Oh, that's exciting!"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe for others. Not for me. I'll probably bore them with details of sleeping habits of Erumpents or something."

Tina smiled. "Well…breakfast?"

"What?"

"Breakfast? Before I go to work. At least coffee."

He grinned. "Tea?" he corrected.

She gave a breathy laugh. "Ok. We'll call it a draw. I can be here at six."

He nodded silently, shifting his case from hand to hand.

"Well…" she floundered. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he echoed.

They grew silent once more. Neither made way to part company. The rain had brought a chill to the air that she only just realized and she shrugged her coat tighten around herself. He tugged at the edge of his scarf curiously, eyes flickering over her face, considering. Once again she took notice of how close they were. Someone edged by, squeezing them closer when Newt moved out of the way with a muttered apology. The bell above the door tinkled lightly, the only sound in the silent street.

She felt a sudden spark of courage, and acting quickly before she could think herself out of it, leaned forward to peck his cheek. She heard his sharp breath, but didn't dare meet his eyes.

"Bye," she chirped highly, nervously, before dashing down the stairs and around the corner towards home.

-O-O-

She silently locked the door behind her, sagging against it, her tiny purse dangling in one hand, the damp umbrella in the other. The apartment was dark and silent, and she might've thought she was alone if there hadn't been a familiar sing-songing voice at the bedroom doorway.

"Busted," Queenie accused, illuminated now in the blue-grey glow of wandlight.

"Be quiet," Tina threated, hanging her purse over the back of a kitchen chair, and gingerly retrieving the book from inside her coat before folding it unceremoniously across the chair as well.

"Ooh! A first edition, huh?"

"Go back to sleep," she groaned, clutching the book possessively at her chest, trying to give an aura of authority and failing, as always.

Queenie gave a short squeaky giggle. "I'm only teasing, Teeny. You know that. So how is he?"

"Something tells me I don't really have to talk for you to find out," she answered, taking long strides towards their shared room and edging past her sister who squinted in concentration.

"Boring." Queenie pouted, twisting the key on the bedside lamp and putting out her wand with a tap. "You didn't even kiss."

Tina waited, placing the book on the nightstand, unbuttoning her trousers and reaching for the nightgown hung at the post of her bed.

"You-well at least you tried!" Queenie exclaimed, plopping with a bounce onto her own mattress. "You guys are strange. Why didn't you plant one on him? A real one?"

Tina rolled her eyes, pulling back her quilt and curling beneath it. "To torture you."

Queenie huffed, crossing her arms like a snubbed child. Then she brightened up, gasping in delight. "Ooh, coffee tomorrow?"

"Go to sleep, Queenie," she groaned, reaching out with a lazy hand to her to tap her wand to the lamp and the room fell into darkness. She tucked her wand beneath the pillow, and ignored Queenie's agitated sigh.

She found a comfortable position and pulled the quilt up beneath her chin. In her mind's eye, her thought fell to the way the lamplight in the diner set a red glow over Newt's hair, the way his freckles became more pronounced when he blushed.

She smiled to herself.

"Nauseating," Queenie whispered across the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: I haven't read the companion book, so any details about beasts in this chapter and further along in the story are purely from my own imagination. Forgive me if I get info wrong. Its fun to speculate, anyways.

Shorty, and maybe sort of filler-y, but a long chapter is coming next with lots of meat. ***throws flowers at all of you*** Thanks for being awesome!

-O-O-

She showed up in a dress, tugging at the bulky sweater she pulled over it, coat unbuttoned like she wanted him to notice, yet felt entirely uncomfortable about being in public like this. Her hat was fairy-egg-blue, and obviously borrowed from her sister's wardrobe. Her shoes were sensible and ill-fitting with the outfit, but he said nothing, not even in compliment, for fear of embarrassing her. He set a hand at her waist when she met him at the entrance to his hotel, but swiftly removed it. He just wasn't sure what to do; what lines to make or to cross. If there was something he'd never felt before, it was hesitation.

She led him to a tiny coffee shop, and they drank outside as the morning sky brightened to a diluted grey-blue. He introduced her to tea with cream, and she hesitated at first, peering at him over her teacup in suspicion, but had two cups in the end.

She invited him for dinner, and he agreed gladly. She apologized for having to spend an entire day of his visit at work, but discussed weekend plans and even asked to help him feed the beasts at some point.

A church bell somewhere far off rang out seven o'clock, and she jumped, wiping at her mouth and fumbling to button her coat. "Work," she blurted, "Can't be late."

He hesitated a moment but stood with her, decidedly reaching for her hand. "I'll walk you."

She glanced down, partially stunned. "Do you think its such a good idea to let MACUSA know you're in New York again?"

He gave a grin, but didn't let go of her hand and stepped closer. "Probably not. Then again, their extensive security probably already knows."

She gave him a wry sort of smile. "See you at dinner," she assured him, drawing away. She stepped to the edge of the curb, glanced both ways and dashed across the cobblestone. On the other side, she turned to wave and disappeared into the bustle of people, skirt fluttering about her knees.

He grinned to himself, patting his pocket where Pickett chirped quietly. He wished he would've worked out a way to tell her how pretty she looked. Always looked.

-O-O-

"Careful…careful…"

"Wow…"

"Sshhhh…don't frighten the mother."

Tina cupped her hands gingerly, cradling the pinkish-gold egg between her palms. A tiny beak poked through and she gasped. The entire shell shivered and shook until finally it burst into a thousand tiny flecks, and she held in her hands a minuscule, bloated Snidget chick covered all over with pure white fluff.

"It white!" she whispered, peering up at Newt who was on his knees beside her, overseeing dutifully. He shifted, reaching to cup a hand under hers, directing her to bring the chick down into the nest, near the mother. Their tiny tweets of greeting were almost inaudible.

"Yes. Soon he will go through molting, and gain his gold feathers. Look now…"

She watched with him as the chick bravely jumped from their hands into the tiny nest. The mother rotated her small yet beautifully colored wings, and waited for the chick to reciprocate. He tried, stubby wings fluttering quickly until he was barely an inch off the crowd.

Tina laughed behind her hand.

He tried again, propelling his fat little body up just a few feet, his mother following closely. Steadily, the little bird got the hang of it after lapping a few circles around Newt and Tina's heads and mother and chick took off into the high depths of the expanded case.

"That's amazing," Tina breathed, settling back on her thighs, knees folded underneath her decorously.

"They're highly endangered in England. They were used in Quiddich early on, and their eyes are apparently incredibly valuable to hunters. Just a firm squeeze from a human could easily kill them."

"That's horrible," Tina said.

"Unfortunately. But she's had six chicks since I've cared for her." Newt twirled his finger towards the dark, seemingly endless faux firmament. "You can spot them sometimes, fluttering around, if you're keen." He stood, brushing at his trousers.

Tina followed, tugging at her blouse. "What now?" she asked, but clamped her hands over her ears when a loud woosh sounded overhead followed by a terrible screech. She dared to glance up, catching the end of a spiked tail before the beast, whatever it was, flew into a part of the case that she could not see. She looked to Newt curiously, and at least a little petrified.

He seemed unphased, yet put out. "Norwegian Ridgeback. Just a moment, please," he said, turning over his shoulder to grab a bucket of some unidentifiable raw meat before jogging off after the dragon.

She hustled behind, catching up in a portion of the case magicked with jutting rocks and boulders and a good sized lake seemingly some distance away.

Newt was tossing handfuls of meat from the bucket up to the dragon's unforgiving jaws just three feet over his head. Tina got the impression that given the dragon's length and appetite, it could've swallowed him whole if it really wanted.

"This is Orion," Newt said, hefting a length of what looked like rib meat up to the beast which it caught instinctively between shining teeth.

"Charmed I'm sure," she muttered, keeping her distance.

"When I'm writing, sometimes I'll take a walk through the countryside to organize my thoughts," Newt continued.

Tina shook her head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I found him as an egg in Dorset just this past January, abandoned by his mother. Shrewd things, female dragons," Newt recited. "He's blind in one eye. I assume she could tell something was off, and left him behind."

Tina noted one eye, cloudy blue and unmoving while the other one, bright yellow, never darted from its watch on the bucket.

"He's only a baby still, of course. He'll grow to be twice as big as this within the next year. Then I'll have to find a safe place for him to go, where he'll have plenty of friends and space to fly freely."

"And what is that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the foul-smelling meat he tossed towards the creature.

"Sheep," he answered casually.

"Sheep?!"

He laughed over his shoulder at her. "Come here."

"Are you crazy?"

"Quite." He tossed another cut of meat to the Ridgeback. It munched happily, bones and all. "Now, come here." He beckoned her.

She inched forward, hesitantly. "Out of all the ridiculous things to keep in a suitcase…" she muttered.

Newt crouched deeply, stretching one bowed leg in front of the other, approaching the dragon slowly with hands at his side.

The creature rumbled, belly glowing warm orange. The ground beneath her feet trembled. "Newt," she hissed, tightening her fists.

She watched him, reaching up slowly, ever-so slowly towards the dragon's snout. She noticed his face was turned away, as if in reverence, with his hand still outstretched, his eyes closed.

The dragon moved sharply, and she had to swallow her gasp. It ducked its stubby snout towards Newt and for a moment she feared it might actually snatch him. But then she realized…it was bowing.

Finally, as gingerly as could be, Newt set his hand flat against the dragon's snout. Then it turned, rolling onto its back, long wings unfurled and flat to the ground.

"There we go," she heard Newt whisper, and he trotted around to the dragon's flank, reaching a hand to rub it's fleshy belly. The dragon seemed to laugh, or rather hiccup, and sparks darted from its nostrils towards where Tina stood.

"How's that, old boy?" Newt was grinning openly now, scratching generously at the soft skin. The dragon twisted anxiously.

"Come here," he called to her once more.

Making a wide circle, she studied the dragon's long and thin wing, two little horns at the fold. It was a beautiful and intricate creature, but that didn't make the butterflies in her stomach rest.

She stood beside Newt, and he took her wrist, bringing her hand up to the surprisingly soft and invitingly warm dragon skin.

"It tickles...to him," he said softly, resuming rhythmically scratching.

"H-How did you do that?" she asked, hesitantly stroking.

He paused, half a smirk at his lips. "Trust."


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday saw a visit to Coney Island that Tina had all but begged for. It was crowded, and smelly, and completely brazen. Completely American. She proved herself with a pop gun, winning a necklace of cheap pink beads that she hung around her neck with beaming triumph. He was genuinely impressed, and told her so.

They bought dinner and strolled the boardwalk, trading questions until she asked about Hogwarts, a subject he could practically discuss ad nauseam.

"…Yes, we've got four houses as well. There's, ah…Gryffindor which favors the brave, I suppose you could say. Slytherin are the most cunning and canny. Ravenclaw are rather wise and deep thinking. Then Hufflepuff…well, there's all the others."

Tina snorted a laugh, speaking through a mouthful of her frankfurter, covering her mouth with her hand, at least trying to have the appearance of poise. "Can I guess which one you belonged to?"

Newt grinned openly. "Go on then."

She thought a moment, chewing. "Gryffindor?"

Newt's laugh was swallowed by a stout gust of wind. "No, no, no…Ah. Hufflepuff, actually."

"Oh. Well, you didn't give me very good clues!"

"I suppose not. Hufflepuffs are typically considered loyal and dedicated."

"It suits you."

Newt was thankful for the biting wind off the ocean, tinting his cheeks red, effectively hiding his blush. "A-and…Ilvermorny?"

"Me? I was a Wampus. Queenie was a Pukwudgie."

"Ah. What I've read about their mythology, I'd say it fits as well."

Tina smiled before taking to last bite of her hot dog and dusting her hands on her trousers. "Wanna ride the Ferris wheel?"

"The what?"

She smirked at his ignorance and pointed. "That thing."

"It looks terribly boring," he observed incredulously.

"Well, it kind of is, But its supposed to be romantic."

They laughed together, making their way for the line.

"So you've always lived here?" Newt asked as they waited, hands deep in the pockets of his coat.

Tina nodded. "Yep. A hardened New York native."

Newt grinned cheekily. "Hardly."

Tina smirked, peering at him from the corner of her eye.

At the gate, the operator held his hand out to Newt. "A nickel, please."

He played off his panic well, but gaped. "Sorry, a what?" he questioned.

The operator didn't relent, glaring. Tina fiddled in her purse for a moment before reaching over, plopping a nickel into the man's palm. "Sorry. He ain't from around here," she said, New York accent thicker than normal. Newt bit back a chuckle, nodded to the operator, and followed after her.

"It's a lovely view, but it isn't anything compared to a broomstick," Newt remarked once they reached the highest point.

"I know, but still its frivolous no-maj fun. Tina and I loved it when we were kids. Flying in city limits is absolutely forbidden, so we had to go out to the mountains with our brooms. But…we haven't been out there since Mom and Dad passed."

Newt looked over to her, admiring the way the carnival lights set a glow on her fair features. But her eyes were elsewhere, remembering something unseen.

"And how old were you...when they passed?" He hesitated in asking, but it seemed like a logical train for their conversation of the day.

"I was ten," she said with a sigh. "Queenie was nine." Her voice was clipped, so he didn't press her further. After moment's silence, she continued. "I got admitted to Ilvermorny the next year. I begged to just stay back, to care for Queenie. She would've had no where else to go. But they wouldn't allow it. I would've had to forfeit my entire education."

"That's ridiculous," Newt breathed, incensed.

She shrugged. "That was the government…at the time. Laws protecting our kind were even more rigid and didn't make much sense."

Newt could've argued that they didn't make much sense now either, but remained silent.

Off his look, she continued. "You've got the remember the history of wizards in America is a rocky one. Its no wonder things have turned out the way they are now. But we're still a young country, considering…" She seemed to digress.

"So she was placed in a home for orphans, and I went on to school without her."

She was looking away now, out over the dark ocean, concentrating on the yellow lights on the Brooklyn Bridge.

"I was so worried about her that year, I almost flunked. I still remember how tight she hugged me when I came back for her… The worst was over then because we spent summers at Ilvermorny, or friends houses. It would've been too suspicious for us to go back to New York during vacations, even if we bounced around. MACUSA doesn't really have regulations on orphans from magical families. We were the first, let alone the first siblings, that had been orphaned in quite a long time…so they sort of flew by the seat of their pants with us."

She clamped a hand over a rogue tear, but he'd seen it. He could hear the quivering in her voice.

"And…that's why exposing the Second Salemers was so important to you?"

Tina nodded, smiling uneasily, deflecting. "Yes," she breathed. "Nobody deserves to be belittled because they're different."

The twinkling lights beneath their feet cast dancing patterns in her eyes.

Newt reached up a hand, brushing his knuckles against her cheek where the tear had trailed. He couldn't image it…Being all alone in the world at that age, isolated because of who they were, each only having the other to rely on… having lost their parents just the year before.

He'd grown up in a typical family, and though he grew up in his brother's shadow, things were never terrible. Though other students at school took the Mickey out of him at times, he never concentrated too much on what they had to say. Being expelled had been the biggest strain. But having no one?

Tina's hand reached up to take hold of his, twining their fingers and bringing them down to rest between them. With her other hand, she tugged at her beads.

"I'm sorry," she huffed thinly. "I don't ever talk about this…"

"Its alright," he assured her, stock still, trying to determine if further conversation would make things worse. "Tell me more about…Ilvermorny," he decided, trying to think of a topic that would lighten the mood a bit.

She launched into stories of her first days, who her friends were, fond memories, exploring the coast. He told her about Hogsmeade, his first draught of Butterbeer (which he had shared with Leta, though he left out this detail). They continued trading stories their entire walk home. She asked about his family, his brother, their hippogriffs he'd helped his mother raise.

He spoke about how his mother was devoted to the intricacies in bloodlines of breeding, but his father was never interest by it, and deferred instead to concentrate on politics. Tina grew quiet and intense as he spoke about this. He wondered where her thoughts were.

When they'd reached the alley by her apartment building, he paused.

She faced him, hands buried in her pockets. "Well what a gentleman, bringing a lady to her front door," she teased.

"Guilty as charged, I suppose."

"Thank you for tonight," she blurted. "Its back to the workweek tomorrow."

"Well, I should thank you. You paid. Very scandalous. I should be ashamed."

She chuckled. "It was my pleasure."

He gave a hum of a laugh, deliberately taking a step towards her. Her expression grew curious, eyes trained intensely.

In taming animals, there were rules one followed. Rituals and techniques. Estimations to be made. Hard facts. With humans, unpredictability reigned. For so long it had embittered him. What he thought he knew about them was never correct, and decisions were always changing. So he'd withdrawn. He sought his own path and had been content to walk it alone. Until her.

Until something incalculable had begun to make at least a little sense.

His hand reached to grasp her chin, thumb stroking at her jaw in a reflex he'd taken habit to after years with ill-tempered beasts.

She gasped, and he paused, considering. From the corner of his eye, he saw her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

He leaned in, and back again. In the end he thought better of further hesitation, finding her lips with his own in one easy movement.

It was gentle and cautious, and halfway through he was struck with the possibility that he was doing this all wrong. He pulled back. Tina's closed eyes and furrowed brow gave him no answers.

Finally, she relaxed, her eyes low and he noticed her hand gripping at the buttons of his waistcoat.

"What was that for?" she whispered huskily, not releasing her hold.

He might've been clueless about the process, but there was at least some spark of virility that steered his instincts. And yet words fled him. "Well, I was hoping it would…you know…"

She met his eyes, half shocked.

"Merlin, no! Not that! Just…" He faltered, feeling heat rush to his face. "I'm trying to…Isn't a man supposed to define…Isn't it proper procedure, anyway, for the man to pursue the woman? Out of respect and honor, not that you couldn't decide for yourself…After all, I understand if you simply…" He couldn't remember having ever been so muddled and incompetent, and instead of shutting up, he just kept digging.

Tina's scowl melted into bubbling laughter.

Merlin's beard, now he'd absolutely lost her. There was no going back…

He stood there, feeling smaller than ever, watching her cover her smile and trying to choke back her snickering.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, bringing her hands up to his shoulders. "I didn't mean to laugh." She cleared her throat and set her expression in an attempt at being serious, still grinning. "No one's ever…" she started. "I'm not the kind of girl guys _pursue_ , Mr. Scamander. Queenie's the one the guys go after. I'm just me."

But he wasn't trying to 'go after' her. He wasn't traveling an entire ocean for a few fleeting moments of pleasure. Because there were more important, real, and lasting things that momentary indulgence could hold no candle to. But he couldn't tell her that…at least not in any way that made any sense.

Instead, he reached out, in the same unspoken gesture, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. On second thought, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. It wouldn't say as much as he had wanted, but it didn't really matter.

"I…" she whispered, leaning into the hand still at her hair. But she seemed to lose her words, or thought better of saying them. Her eyes flashed up to his, warm like molten chocolate.

"Would you…come up for coffee? Or tea. Whichever." she asked breathlessly.

He smirked. He should've known he would not have full control of the reigns.

His hand gasped hers, lacing their fingers together, leading her to the front doors of the building, throwing all thoughts of propriety to the wind.

-O-O-

Her shoes tapped an impatient rhythm against the solid stone floors, echoing down the endless hallway. She'd never been called here. Not to her _personal_ office anyways. Certainly there were meetings where Madame Picquery traveled across headquarters to the Auror office, but rarely was anyone summoned directly to her, unless they were expert investigators, which Tina was definitely not.

"She will see you now!" A formidable, orange-haired witch glowered at her from the entrance to the outer office and Tina jumped, gathering her folders in a haphazard pile.

"Thank you," she greeted, passing.

Before her, a great carved depiction of MACUSA's insignia, the Phoenix, glittered in pure gold and painted blue, with its indicative red and white stripes and stars over the height of the office wall.

She glanced back to Picquery's secretary who looked perturbed, glaring impatiently.

She faced the effigy again, half expecting it to come alive or catch aflame, but it remained still.

Finally, the secretary cleared her throat, and Tina looked. She indicted a plain door on the left, framed in ornate but otherwise ordinary white molding. She'd missed it in the dominating presence of the golden Phoenix.

"Sorry," Tina whispered, tiptoeing forward. She heard the secretary huff behind her and the chair at her desk squeal in protest as she sat again.

The carpet was impossibly plush under her feet as she moved towards the door.

Tina gripped the heavy gold doorknob, palms clammy. Finally, she gave it a turn and peeked inside. For having worked in the Congress for several years, she knew more about the White House than this place. She knew the no-maj president officed in an oval shaped room, in a house that was looming but ultimately a typical mansion.

Madame Picquery's office was long and rectangular, windows trimmed in gold and red velvet, a fire glowing healthily in the wide, grey marble fireplace. Sun peeked in, setting the room in a regal glow.

At the far end, Madame President was at full height behind her desk, her back turned.

Tina wondered if she should speak.

"You asked to see me, Madame President," she managed.

Picquery glanced over one shoulder, the jewels sewn into her headscarf catching the light. "Have a seat, Miss Goldstein."

Before she had time for her nerves to get the better of her, she stepped forward and crossed the length of the room to the matching plush red chairs in front of the great oak desk.

"You've brought the files I asked for?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Picquery turned to face her in full now. "Miss Goldstein, since you began your work for us, I'm afraid we've not seen eye to eye on a variety of issues."

Tina pressed her lips together.

"Your determination for proving yourself is consuming, your thirst for finding truth sometimes leads you outside the boundaries of our laws, shows a direct disrespect for authority, and promises to be your detriment."

Tina sat silently, making no indication of argument.

"And yet these are the traits of an Auror, who I think, will prove most valuable as the fabric of our society tears from tradition."

There was a long pause, and Tina felt as if she were being allowed to speak now.

"I'm sorry, Madame President, I don't understand."

Picquery cast a hand forwards the ragged pile of paperwork in Tina's lap. "You've brought all accounts and reports pertaining to the wizard Gellert Grindelwald. Myself, and my close cabinet members believed this man to pose a direct threat to our kind, perhaps the non-magical world as well, and therefore the exposure of our world. Now that we've arrested him, he's alluded us, and seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, I'm inclined to reduce him to no more than a fanatical maniac whose theologies are rooted in an outdated culture. A culture which I choose, in a world that is ever changing, ever advancing around us, not to subscribe to any longer.

"It has been the approach of the Magical Congress of the United States, as opposed to other countries, to isolate ourselves. If there's one thing Americans are terrible at, it is minding their own business and having the wisdom to know their boundaries. Since our arrival in the country, our kind has been hunted, sought out and tortured because of our differences. Therefore, we've ascribed to a doctrine of separation; of fear in an effort to protect ourselves. This thirst for protection born of fear has produced stringent laws, as you know. But I sense that fear has no place in a new world we're being propelled into. Changes are to be made. No longer can we be worried at menial crimes and powerless zealots."

Picquery paused, bracing her hands against the edge of her desk. She sighed, eyes hooded wearily.

"During my government of this Congress, I'm required to be perceptive and calculating in every decision I make, predicting the consequences and cleaning up the effects. I have taken it upon myself to be careful of mistakes. If I am mistaken this time, so be it."

She looked back to Tina, jaw set.

"I sense on the horizon something more sinister than the odd rogue wizard. So, if I may make my way to the point of our meeting, I need an Auror like yourself. With a strong will and a solid countenance, to be among my eyes and ears in this shifting period…I'd like to promote you above local investigations. To international conflicts."

Tina gaped. "Madame President, I…"

The woman held up a hand. "You will be under my close watch. Given our history, remember I wouldn't do this if I didn't think it necessary."

"Yes ma'am." Tina swallowed.

"You may go, now. If I'm correct, the Foreign Affairs council meets tomorrow morning. At six. Please do not be late."

She rose, clutching at the folders furiously. "No. I won't be. T-Thank you, Madame President."

She turned, trying haplessly to control her expression, to suppress the skip in the step.

"And Miss Goldstein…" Picquery amended once she was halfway to the door. "Remember, too, that doubt, especially self-doubt, leads to isolation."

Tina paused, weighing the advice, trying to determine if this was something Madame Picquery had learned out of her own actions, but then felt suddenly like she were delving into something she shouldn't. She nodded, and turned for the door, hurrying from the tomb of the outer office, avoiding looking directly towards the encroaching figure of the golden Phoenix.

-O-O-

The door slammed back on its hinges, disturbing the knitting needles at their armchair. "You will never guess what happened today!" Tina exclaimed, tossing off her hat.

Queenie was supervising the stirring of a pot of custard, directing the spoon with her finger.

"Well maybe you will, but just pretend like you won't."

"I'll never figure it out if you keep talking that loud," Queenie complained.

"You are now looking at an official investigator of international civil and criminal disturbances, to be exact."

"Oh, Teeny! A promotion!" She skipped into a hug, squealing. Tina feigned annoyance but ended up in a fit of giggles anyways.

"You deserve it," Queenie said sincerely when she drew back, gripping her sister's elbows. "So…what does this mean? Would you move away?"

Tina looked deflated. "I'm not sure. I haven't thought that far."

The sisters were silent for a moment, but Tina knew Queenie was listening, taking in every conflicting emotion. There was Newt to think about…things were going well, but would he necessarily want her _over there_ with him? Did she want to leave her sister behind? Could she, for the first time since…?

Would it be questionable to seek out assignment in England to be closer? Picquery said nothing of traveling abroad… And then…

Could she even be…a wife?

"Ugh. Forget it. I can't think about that now." She sank into a chair at their kitchen table.

"This probably sounds bizarre coming from me, but just take things one step at a time, Teeny. Enjoy life a little," Queenie said, going back to her cooking. "And anyways, he's going to be here any second."

The clock on the bookshelf barely had time to chime once before the atmosphere twitched with the pinch of Apparation.

"Hello," Newt greeted from the sitting room, righting his coat.

"Tina got a promotion," Queenie blurted without looking away from the stove.

"Queenie!" Tina's fists pounded the table.

"Really? That's lovely." He was at her chair, smiling fondly. "To what position?"

"International affairs," Tina nearly groaned, bringing a hand to rub her forehead.

"Oh," he said off her reaction. "You don't seem pleased."

"I am. I'm just…"

"Overly pragmatic," Queenie accused.

"You don't even know what that means," Tina quipped, rolling her eyes when Queenie stuck out her tongue.

"Dinner's ready," the younger sister chirped, and with a flick of her wand a roast chicken was pulled from the oven and set steaming and still crackling onto the dining table.

The trio ate together with minimal conversation, and despite her jumble of questions with lack of answers, Tina noticed Queenie staring longingly at a forkful of bread pudding.

She wasn't the mind reader, but she didn't have to be, at least not with Queenie.

"You've been walking past the bakery again, haven't you?"

She gave a dramatic sigh. "I wish I could see him. Talk to him. He seems so happy."

"Shouldn't that make you happy as well?" Tina questioned.

"It does, but its not the same as experiencing it with him. Life would be kind of worthless if you didn't share it with someone, don't you think?"

Tina remained quiet, but didn't miss Newt's glance toward her. "Memory charms are tricky," she cautioned.

Queenie poked at her dessert. "The worst thing that could happen is he doesn't recognize me."

"Or goes into shock," Tina argued.

"A slim probability, with Swooping Evil venom." Newt piped in. "Its much more natural that your typical memory charm, without devastating side effects."

"Just…" Tina still looked wary. "Do it when you think the time is right. I know you will."

When they'd cleared the dishes, and had them scrubbing themselves clean in the sink, Newt conjured a deck of Exploding Snap cards. Tina resigned to the sofa, reading.

After four hands, Newt finally bowed out, having overlooked the fact that he was playing with a Legilimens who would clearly detect his every move. The only thing that kept the game interesting was Queenie's surprised yelp every time a card spontaneously detonated from her own hand.

The night dissolved into comfortable ease, and when it came time for Newt's departure, all her worries about the future had been thoroughly quelled, if only for the moment. With a sister that held her heart, and someone else (a friend, a suitor?) who held everything else, there was no reason to spend much time doubting it.

With his book set reverently on her bedside table, her final thoughts before sleep fell to Picquery's cryptic advice. She was able to ponder on the timeliness only for a few moments before sleep claimed her.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: We weren't introduced to a new Head of the Auror Office, so enter the OC(s)

-O-O-

 _July, 1927_

The courtroom was humming with debate, waving fingers, pointed gestures. Dozens of languages she did not understand.

The room did not quiet until Picquery held out a hand, effectively earning attention.

"Since the incidents of last December within our city, international sentiments have plummeted to a point I can no longer ignore. I've asked us to gather today, first to urge us towards unification, even now. And secondly, to assure you that the breach of our Congress last year has made way for extensive security measures. While we try to determine the depth of Grindelwald's following and his motives, we must also search where our loyalties lie…"

"Loyalties? Loyalties that have left the smallest groups unprotected? Hunted?" Africa's chief shouted above other murmurs.

"International safety has always been a priority of this Congress!" Picquery tried, but someone shouted over her.

"So say the Americans!"

"Cowards!"

"Killers of your own kind, deserters of others!"

"Can we consider building international relations trustworthy when your own Congress has been infiltrated and your head Auror forgone to the cause we all apparently pledge to put an end to? Then this dark wizard, conveniently lost?" Spain's minister asked.

Tina snapped.

Her hands gripped at the arms on either side of her chair. "Precival Graves was _murdered_ and _impersonated_ by a overzealous lunatic that we've now lost track of. Would it be wise to insult his memory like that?" An insult to the Magical Congress of the United States that if nothing else, had excelled at uniting magic across borders. She wanted to continue, but bit back.

Her fellow Aurors were staring, including the newly appointed head, Alexander Passwater who was ever even keeled.

The room grew eerily still, except for Madame Picquery's warning glare.

"We will not win this if we cannot unite. We do not need to agree, but we must ally with one another. We are not countries, but wizards. Please be assured that MACUSA will do everything in its power to protect all of wizardkind, not only ourselves. Take my words, or leave them. Darkness will come, and where we choose to act is the true test," Picquery finished, addressing her colleagues once more.

Attitudes stirred more than quelled, wizards Disapparated one by one, leaving a weary and weatherworn MACUSA to their consequences.

-O-O-

Tensions continued to rise, and by August Grindlewald's trail was lost. Part of Tina wondered if… _if_ there was a possibility…with his power…could he cease to have a body at all?

It was a silly thought, and a dark thought, that had her biting her nails at her desk, and filling herself with cups of tea which she'd taken habit to over coffee in the three week since Newt had departed in May.

A cold trail meant a lot of desk work, and paperwork. Regrettably, Tina wasn't particularly organized, probably to Picquery and Passwater's chagrins.

And since they'd virtually considered Grindelwald to be a non-threat for the time being, monitoring any leaks on the case she'd been placed in charge of had her sulking, lost in thought and not always thoughts about work.

It bothered her, and she tried to suppress it. But it seemed to be unavoidable. She didn't have time thnk about _him._ She had to find something useful. A clue.

Most of her time was spent in the Library of Congress researching or in the lunchroom waiting for the kettle to whistle.

She supposed her moods weren't hard to spot. On her fourth cup of the day, her supervisor, the recently promoted Alexander Passwater, approached just as she'd tapped the tip of her wand to the teakettle and asked that she schedule a meeting with Picuqery.

"I don't pretend like I'm an expert on women, but you've been acting strange, Goldstein," he'd said, not meeting her eyes, trying to diffuse the uncomfortable air in approaching his new female employee with something he probably attributed to women's troubles.

Her second private meeting with the President proved to be much less tense, but encountered issues Tina wasn't prepared for.

"Your disposition doesn't have anything to do with Newt Scamander, does it?" Madame President obviously did not mind cutting straight to the chase.

Tina shifted uncomfortably, half horrified. "No, ma'am."

"Love does strange things to us. It wouldn't be something to embarrassed of."

"I'm not in l…" she began, but Picquery threw her an incredulous look.

"At any rate, I don't want a valuable member of our law enforcement to fizzle out."

She set her shoulders. It wasn't lost on her that the President of MACUSA had just considered her significant. "No ma'am." Tina defended. "I'm just going through growing pains with the new changes and the general unease. I'll get over it eventually."

"Your defense of Percival Graves at our last meeting was surprising."

"Yes, well…I didn't see eye to eye with him more often than not, but he was my supervisor. And dedicated to the safety of us all."

"Kind words."

Tina didn't let her expression change. She just nodded.

The President eyed her intently.

"I have needed someone…an Ambassador to represent us and our mission to those across the sea. Perhaps you're the woman for the job, Miss Goldstein."

Now Tina balked. "Madame President, I don't think…"

"It probably wouldn't be such a bad idea to stretch your wings a bit, Miss Goldstein. You're still very green. Smart, but green."

"I wouldn't…"

"You'd be based in London, England. From the Ministry's main headquarters."

It was bait. Not that she needed it.

"I'm honored, Madame President."

"I could release you as soon as October."

"Oh. Well…I'd…be…grateful, Madame President."

Picquery, for the first time Tina could remember, smiled warmly. "I sensed this since Mr. Scamander's first notorious visit to our city. It was at least a small part of the reason I promoted you in the first place. Don't underestimate my eyes and ears, Miss Goldstein."

-O-O-

September saw another short visit, and a version of Tina that was more disgruntled and on-edge than ever before. She was tense, conversation short, and talked with no one about what had been brewing behind closed doors in the Auror office. Maybe it was because of it or in spite of it that he found himself sorting out one certain phrase he'd rehearsed in his mind since docking.

"I was wondering if you…I was thinking…" He paused, pressing his knuckles to his lips, thinking hard. "That's not right…"

"Tina, I was hoping to ask you…"

"Ask me what?"

He bolted to his feet from the bench outside the hotel. "Tina! Er…Hello."

There she stood, beautiful as ever in a skirt he hadn't seen before, looking bright and fresh in the mid-autumn air that was still tinged with remaining warmth. It was a relief. She'd been so gray for the past few weeks.

"Hi." She peered at him suspiciously. "Why are you talking to yourself?"

"Wasn't." He reached down to gather his things, gripping his case tight. "Thank you for meeting me. Again."

He didn't know why he said it. It sounded stupid and pointless. Pickett mewled quietly, unimpressed in the pocket of his waistcoat.

"You're acting very strange," she observed the obvious, if only to try and pinpoint the motive.

"Nerves. Seasickness. I always get seasick."

"Right." She gave a small scoff of a laugh, looking him up and down incredulously. "You'll be late if we wait any longer. Let's go."

Ticket checked and passport presented, Newt was left with no other diversions to delay his question. And Tina had noticed. Of course she would. He was a fool to think she'd leave it alone.

They had reached the point where it would've been proper to say their goodbyes, as they had several time before. But Tina lingered, arms crossed, eyes down, looking increasingly more hurt as passengers boarded.

"Well, thanks for coming…" she started, but he interrupted swiftly.

"Tina…what you said a few months ago about releasing the creatures… It is something I've known needs doing. That's the whole idea, you see. Rehabilitation, education, reinstallation…"

He was rambling. She was staring, stone faced.

He huffed, desperately trying to carve out his point. "I was wondering…I was hoping…"

"Yes," she said deliberately.

"Oh."

Her arms unfolded, hands going to his own, gripped at the handle of the case.

"I'd like that. Very much."

He grinned warmly. Her eyes grew watery.

He paused, smile faltering. He had known her long enough now, _deep enough_ now that he didn't hesitate in asking.

"Tina, is there something that's been bothering you?"

"Actually, yes." Her chest heaved with her deep breath, and—he suspected—the weight of the entirety of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Picquery's made me an Ambassador. She wants me to station me overseas next month."

"Overseass? England? Tina, that's fantastic! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

She gave a watery half-smile. "Is it? I don't know."

"Why not?"

"Leaving Queenie. Besides, I'm no diplomat. And…" She thrust a hand out into the space between them. "I didn't know if you'd…if we'd…"

Newt shook his head, smiling knowingly. "You underestimate yourself…in both regards."

Her expression is half-stunned, half-awed. "What?"

He shifted the case to one hand, reaching to grab hers. "I…would love to have you in London."

She was breathless, then smiling. She hurried to wipe her cheeks of tears that clung at her eyelashes.

"And as for being a diplomat…You're raging, stunning practicality might give those old bullfrogs what they've been missing."

She laughed, sputtering. "First…" She breathed again, pulling herself together. "I want to see your world."

A horn blared, indicating the final boarding call. She didn't let go of his hand.

"I'll see you soon. On my side of the pond," he said, before leaning in to peck her cheek.

She breathed a laugh, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I'll send you correspondence about when I'd like to begin."

"OK. I'll start flat-hunting."

He nodded, Nervous Newt all over again, ducking his head and turning for the gangplank. He gave one last glance at her, grinning shyly before disappearing aboard.

She waited until they'd departed and until the tears were dried before hurrying for the office to hunt down a copy of the Daily Prophet classifieds.

-O-O-

A letter came the next week, with a large inkblot at the top corner, and a smattering of spindly Bowtruckle footprints.

 _12_ _th_ _September, 1927_

 _My lovely Goldstein,_

 _The chilling drizzle has not stopped since I docked in London. Its constricting, depressing, and it fuels me to restlessness. I've been spending spare time in the case, experimenting with venoms and medicines, and trying to come to terms with no longer having them with me._

 _With the book written, I can only trust my fellow wizards to educate themselves, and sentiments to improve with time. Still, its difficult to trust what's unfamiliar. And here I find myself on the reverse of my own argument: accepting the unknown with conviction even when all experience has told you to be wary._

 _There are some I could keep. But even telling myself that makes me wish I could care for them all, always._

 _Too many things are changing, and I can't seem to wrap my head around them all. I apologize for the short letter._

 _Yours,_

 _Newt Scamander_

-O-O-

September 17 _th_ _, 1927_

 _Newt,_

 _We have been discussing our goals and intent in this new Ambassadorship. I will be accompanied by two other Aurors, Camilla Broadtree and Nathaniel Dowright. We wouldn't exactly be official Ambassadors, but a supplementary team concentrating on keeping tabs on Grindlewald and any followers and subsidiary groups as well as promoting general goodwill._

 _I've found a flat. It is small, and cheap. But its something to start with. I'll arrive October 10_ _th_ _and would love to be escorted through London by a true Brit._

 _In your debating about this new journey, try and be reminded that I'll be there by your side._

 _And just so you know, I wouldn't mind tending a tree of Bowtruckles or a pack of Mooncalfs until we're eighty…_

 _If that's what you had in mind… Mooncalfs…_

 _-Tina_

-O-O-

The next letter was not a letter at all, but a map carefully marked with lines linking countries, beginning in the hills of Ireland and Scotland, heading down into Egypt and scattered countries within Africa, east into India and China, and down to Australia and its islands.

It set a smile across her face like there hadn't been in months.

Another thick envelope came the same day, containing her lease agreement.


End file.
